About a week ago, three anglers lost their lives in one of two boat wrecks that happened on two different bodies of water during bass-fishing tournament events on the same morning, April 16. My prayers go up for the families of those three anglers, the two professional bass fishermen who were involved, and the others who were injured and otherwise affected.
These two incidents have been thoroughly documented; if you don’t know the particulars, you can read Wired2Fish’s reporting on the fatal Major League Fishing collision here, and on the National Professional Fishing League crash that injured two here. I’m not here to rehash what happened or to try to determine who was at fault. And I’m not here to suggest that any of what I’m about to write could have been used to prevent either of these incidents. I’m not really here to talk about the tragic events of April 16 at all, but what happened that day has had me thinking a lot lately.
I’ve been thinking about how close I’ve come to royally messing up a few times, and about how close my friends and family have come to experiencing heartache on account of potentially losing me — of how close I’ve come to hurting someone else and how easy it is for one split second on the water to forever change or end a life.
I want to tell a few stories, hopefully bring your attention to a few things, and maybe save a life with some of the wisdom I can share — wisdom gained the hard way, so that you won’t have to — that is, if you’ll listen and take it to heart. That’s my hope: that these stories could save a life. So here it goes.
Dealing With Bad Weather — Or Better Yet, Don’t
Running a boat in adverse weather conditions is a recipe for disaster. Fog is the big one, but not the only one. Running in a hard rain or a snow storm is just as dangerous. All of these limit a boater’s ability to see where they’re going and all but eliminates any chance of seeing something floating in the water as they’re running. Plus, fog limits the ability of other boaters to see anything, too, including you.
Too many people rely on their electronics in these situations, and yes they can be used to help you steer clear of the bank. But if you’re carefully running a line based on your GPS at 45 miles per hour, and someone is doing the same thing in the other direction, you run the risk of meeting at 90 miles an hour in the fog without ever seeing each other coming.
About 20 years ago, I borrowed my dad’s boat to fish a Bass Fishing League (BFL) tournament in February on our home waters of Lake Martin in Alabama. It hardly ever snows there, but that morning, it was a literal white out right after take-off. I was a gung-ho 18 year old with a few fish found about 20 miles away, so I set off in pursuit of them like my life was on the line, not realizing it literally was. I don’t remember for certain, but I don’t believe my dad even had a GPS on his boat at the time. Martin in February is littered with shallow and exposed humps and points, brought to the surface by the winter pool draw-down.
As I picked my way along through the snow doing about 40 mph, being safe, or so I thought. I ran within about 15 feet of a buoy that couldn’t have been sitting in a foot of water, atop a solid rock pile; Pleasure Point it’s called — those who know it will understand.
This point comes out about 300 yards into the lake. I knew about it, and I’d driven around it a hundred times, and I thought I was still a few miles from it. Then, I was suddenly on top of it. I wanted to throw up. Not only because I almost tore up my dad’s boat, but because I also put my life and my co-angler’s life in danger. It was a gut check for sure, something I obviously remember to this day.
The Shallower the Water, the Higher the Caution
Extra care must always be taken when running in shallow water. We put a little too much stock in electronics these days. All the mapping software is phenomenal, but none of it has the tree marked that washed up from the last big rain. You have to keep your eyes peeled when running in shallow water, period. Much like the iceberg and the titanic, you may only see the tip of a log sticking up, but it is half the size of the boat underwater. We know how that ended for the Titanic, so don’t go down the same way in 5 feet of water thinking you’re good because you’ve run through there before.
Running shallow boat lanes and trails is also super dangerous. I had a guy throw water on me while I was fishing Lake Okeechobee doing it, with plenty of room for him to go around. And I’m as guilty as anyone of running these lanes when I shouldn’t have. I hadn’t lost any of my zeal for the sport when I was in my mid-20s. At that time, I was fishing semi-pro tournaments like the Opens and Toyota Series, which were called the Everstarts at the time.
Any time I saw a boat lane that ran back into tall reeds, I was just certain the winning fish were back there, and I would run with reckless abandon through the reeds to find out. Though I ran several of these lanes on Lake Okeechobee, I never did end up finding the mother load by doing it. But, I did put myself in extremely dangerous situations, with lanes no more than 3 feet wide and reeds so tall I couldn’t see over them. You can watch a similar scenario below. Thank the Lord, I never met a boat doing it. And you couldn’t pay me to do it again once I saw this. Language advisory:
In The Dark
Running at night is an extremely dangerous thing to do. My dad and I love fishing night tournaments here in Alabama in the summer, and I know lots of anglers elsewhere do also. But you have to be super careful. It’s very hard to see the bank at night, and nearly impossible to see something floating in the water. You can get headlights put on your boat, and keep the motor trimmed down and under 40 mph; both will help. But there’s no perfect solution when it comes to staying safe running at night. Dad and I learned that secondhand one Wednesday night about 20 years ago.
We had fished a Wednesday night tournament from 6 to 10 p.m. on Yates Lake near our house ever since I was a kid. The lake is small and typically pretty safe to run around on, unless there’s been a lot of rain. But one night, one of the guys was running around in the dark and suddenly slammed into something with the motor, bringing the boat to an abrupt halt and naturally scaring the mess out of them.
Instantly, they had gone from running on-plane to the entire outboard being flipped upside down–still running. Thankfully, neither angler in the boat was seriously injured. But I’ll never forget the image of the boat on the trailer, with the cowling near the ground and what was left of the lower unit up in the air.
This is something that happens pretty often, whether at night or during the day. Several anglers have lost their lives as a result of the motor coming into the boat, several more have been seriously injured. If you would like to take precaution against this, it’s exactly what “The Leash” was invented for.
The Deadly Importance of PFDs
Be warned, the story that follows is graphic, but it very clearly illustrates why personal floatation devices (PFDs) are so important.
My cousin’s father drowned on our beloved Yates Lake. He was an angler who had spent years on the fishery and knew it well. As the story was told to me by my dad: he had gotten a ticket the week prior to his drowning for not having a PFD in the boat. A few days later, when they found his boat without him in it, they also found a brand new PFD still in the cellophane wrapper and tucked away in a compartment.
A search for his body commenced and continued for several days. Eventually, the search was called off and everyone abandoned the effort, except the lost angler’s son, our cousin.
As he threw a grappling hook out and dragged it across the bottom of the lake in search of his father, he felt something. Slowly he pulled, and brought his own dad’s lifeless body to the surface, hooked in the ear.
I’m sure that was hard to read. It was hard as heck to write, and I can’t imagine what it was like to experience.
My dad wears an inflatable life jacket every time he sets foot in a boat so, the good Lord willing, I never have to experience that. It makes me sick to my stomach just to think about it. And yet, I still don’t wear mine as often as I should.
I have the same fault we all have, I fall for the lie that I’m invincible. That it couldn’t happen to me; I’m young, sure footed, safe. But it just takes one wrong move and it’s all over, for you, anyway. For your loved ones, the pain has just begun. Please, let this story sober you up. Wear a PFD on the water.
Sacrificing View for Screens
The topic of electronics is cause for contention among the bass fishing community in many ways, but I wish we could all reach a consensus in one area at least: we shouldn’t have screens mounted in such a way that they limit our view at the cockpit.
I understand wanting to have the latest and greatest, and I understand the utility of these screens, but having one you can’t see over is unacceptable. It’s gotten to the point that B.A.S.S. had to institute rules this year to deescalate the situation.
Mounting these graphs to the side of the cockpit is also extremely dangerous, and something that almost got my dad and I hurt in a wild cat tournament on Lake Jordan several years ago. During takeoff, I had a boat coming up on us from my left. I looked over at the angler, but I couldn’t see his head. I assume he had his face ducked down behind the windshield to be able to see better, but his screen on the side of his boat eliminated his ability to see me with his peripheral vision.
An incident that couldn’t have lasted more than 5 seconds seemed to go one for minutes, as he drifted closer and closer to me. Finally, I bailed on my course when he was about 20 feet from me and then he suddenly snatched his boat in the other direction, seeing me for the first time. Thankfully, my dad and I were looking back and saw him coming up on us, or that situation could have ended much worse.
Social Media Normalizes Dangerous Habits
I believe we need to take a long, hard look at social media, and even tournament coverage. This isn’t an attack on either, it’s just a realization I recently had. We have simply normalized a lot of extremely dangerous stuff by repeated exposure to it on social media, making it seem common and acceptable.
You’ll see videos of boats running narrow lanes, spearing waves, running close to other boats, and anglers not wearing PFDs. Social media has normalized all of this stuff and removed our natural tilt toward caution.
Before I ever ran a super-tight boat lane on Okeechobee, I sat there and thought long and hard about it. Other than the fact that the boat lane existed, 15 years ago I had no proof that it had ever been done or could be done. Now, before an 18 year old visits Okeechobee for the first time, he’s seen videos of dozens of people doing it on social media and thinks nothing of it. He just takes off down the trail, putting himself and others at risk.
It’s the same situation on big water up north where the waves can become massive. I’ve shot photos of anglers fishing in tournaments dealing with waves taller than they were; I never once considered how doing so could normalize a life threatening situation. If an angler had never seen those pictures and went to set sail on one of the Great Lakes only to be met with 3 footers, he’d probably think a lot harder about heading out. But, knowing someone had fished in worse conditions than that last week, why not send it?
Now, I’m not suggesting that I, a tournament organization or a random angler on Instagram is responsible for anyone else’s poor decisions. But, I do think we all need to remember that a lot of these anglers that are doing these things are seasoned professionals, many with their mortgage payments on the line. This doesn’t justify them taking risks, but it certainly explains why they would. And hopefully, if neither of those are the case for you, it’ll give you pause the next time you head out to do something questionable. Because you’ve seen someone else pull it off doesn’t mean you will.
It’s a Very Old Cautionary Tale
The topic of safety on the water is older than the canoe. The first person who ever stepped foot offshore did so at a risk to himself, as well as the emotional well being of others. Many human beings have lost their lives on the water over the millennia, and a lot of the heartache generated by those accidents could have been avoided. In the modern era, I think there are a few things in particular we can either do or avoid doing.
First, be extremely careful when running a boat in shallow water, at night, or in adverse conditions — better yet, don’t do it at all.
Second: Always, always, always wear a life jacket, not just when operating the big motor. And I’ll make a commitment to doing a better job of that one with you.
Third, set your dash units up so you can still see in front of you and to the side. And keep your eyes on the water more than the graph.
Lastly, be sure to carefully consider what you consume on social media and in tournament coverage. Don’t just think you can go out and do what you see on TV. I like watching reruns of Steve Irwin, but I’m not grabbing a python with my bare hands. Maintain a healthy sense of caution.
In the end, my safety and the safety of those around me is my responsibility. I have to drive defensively, on the water as well as the road these days. Sure, seat belts help in cars and helmets help on the water, but it’s the person in the other vehicle or vessel that I have to look out for. I have to assume they’re texting or assume they’re looking at something on their graph when I’m near them and then operate my vessel in such a way as to defend against their distraction.
